All Catastrophes Start in Potions Class
by Stellanti Nocte
Summary: DM/HP Draco begins to notice things about Harry Potter, such as his hands, hair, eyes, lips...This story contains slash and future male/male sex scenes. Beware.
1. All Catastrophes Start in Potions Class

**Warning:** slash, male/male explicit sex

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing; no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N:** These will be short chapters and I will attempt to update every day. I plan to only have four or five chapters for this story.

* * *

><p><strong>All Catastrophes Start in Potions Class<strong>

_ A crush was a mysterious thing_, Draco mused, as he walked towards his first class of the day: Potions with the Gryffindors. One could go for years sitting next to a person and barely even remember their name when suddenly, BAM! That person is the only thing you can think about. And then it ends after a few months, and it's on to the next person without even realizing you had made the transition. The crush doesn't even need to make sense. Take Draco's last crush for example: Justin Finch-Fletchley. That was a total mistake, and Draco was quite glad that it had finally ended two months ago. _I mean, really, a Hufflepuff?_ As Draco entered the smelly potions classroom, continuing to rant in his head, he had no idea that the fates (a.k.a. the author, muahahaha) had a new crush for him that would cause him to seriously question his sanity.

"Today, we will be making the Draught of Living Death," Professor Snape drawled. All of the Gryffindors groaned. All of the Slytherins sneered at the Gryffindors.

"I will pair you up in order to make the brewing process faster. The pairs are as follows: Ron Weasley and Millicent Bulstrode; Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger; Blaise Zabini and…" Draco zoned out as his monotonous professor rattled off names. He didn't need to hear who he was paired with; the person would be coming to his table, not the other way around. Chairs scraped across the floor as the students shuffled to their partner's table. No one was excited about whom they were paired with and they moved slowly, as if hoping that Snape would miraculously change his mind. He didn't.

A bag dropped heavily to the ground and the chair next to Draco's was shoved backward. He sighed, and reluctantly turned to see who he was stuck with. _It had better not be someone too dumb—well, shit. There goes that hopeful wish._ Potter sat stiffly next to Draco, resolutely staring at the front of the room. _Great. Just bloody fantastic._ Before Draco could even open his mouth, Potter stood up and , without so much as a glance his way, said, "I'll get the ingredients." He stalked off toward the closet crowded with the other students.

Draco smirked. Good, he knows his place. While Potter returned with the ingredients and began spreading them out on the table, Draco lit the fire under their cauldron. He snickered as the cheesiest pick up line in the world popped into his head, "I'll light a fire under _your_ cauldron." Then he wondered why his mind was supplying him with pick up lines in the first place. What, was he planning on flirting with Potter? _As if._

He glanced at the instructions he had written in his notes: _Cut the sopophorous bean and pour it's juice into the potion._ That seemed easy enough, so he shoved the bean at Potter and ordered him to do it. This earned him a glare, but Potter took the bean none the less. Draco turned back to his notes and began to chop the valerian root. After a few minutes of silent cutting, he looked over at Potter to check his progress, only to find that those delicate hands were crushing the bean instead of cutting it.

Wait, _delicate_ hands? Potter's hands were not delicate! They were…..quite small, actually. Draco stared at the short, slender fingers connected to a palm that had to be half the size of his. They really were delicate! Draco had assumed that the Gryffindor would at least have callouses from playing quidditch, but the skin looked smooth and soft.

Draco suddenly wanted to reach over and entwine his fingers with Potter's. How would such a small hand feel being held in his larger ones? Slightly creeped out by these strange new thoughts, Draco cleared his throat.

"Potter," he sneered in an attempt to regain some semblance of normality, " You're supposed to be cutting the bean, not crushing it. I know that both actions start with the same letter, but can't you tell the difference?"

Potter looked up at him with an uncharacteristically calm expression. "Yes, Malfoy, I realize that I am crushing the bean. If you would get your pointy nose out of the air and look around, you would notice that everyone else is having trouble cutting it, because it's slippery. I figured that, since we only need the juice, it doesn't matter if I crush it instead."

_ Oh. Well. When he puts it that way, there's nothing I can make fun of. Since when did potter get a brain? _Draco sneered at him once more for good measure, before turning back to his notes. A smart Potter was extremely unnerving.

They spent the rest of the class in silence, during which Draco most certainly _did not_ stare continuously at Potter's hands and _did not_ mess up the potion a few times due to said staring. Finally, after what seemed like hours (Draco swore the clock was broken) Snape dismissed the class. Draco walked briskly (he most certainly _did not_ run) out of the room, all the while damning Potions class.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm playing around with format. Please tell me if you have ideas on how to make the story easier to read.


	2. The Just Shagged Look

**Disclaimer:** no copyright infringement intended.

**Warning:** slash, male/male sex

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: The "Just Shagged" Look<strong>

_Soft, callous-free hands slid under his shirt and caressed his taut abdomen. The hands moved higher, skating over his ribs and coming to a stop on his chest. Draco moaned as the pad of an index finger rubbed his nipples, before pinching them between thumb and pointer. The hands massaged his shoulder muscles and Draco moaned in appreciation. They slid to his back, ran down his vertebrae, and slipped under his pants. Draco gasped as his bare arse was squeezed, and he bucked his hips, silently begging for the hands to give attention elsewhere. After another gentle squeeze, they complied, and shifted to the front of his hips. Then, with agonizing slowness, the hands wrapped around his aching member and began pumping. _

_ "Oh, merlin," Draco gasped between pants. Those hands were quite talented! They seemed to be everywhere at once; dipping into the slit, circling the head, rolling his balls. The pleasure was overwhelming, and it didn't take long for Draco to cum, screaming a certain green-eyed boy's name. _

He awoke gasping, feeling cold, tired, and sticky. Draco groaned and reached for his wand on his bedside table. A quick cleaning charm later, Draco lay in his bed recalling the brilliant wet dream that he had just experienced. He didn't have to think hard to know just who those talented hands belonged to. They had been all he could think about for the past few days and Draco was loathe to admit that he was obsessed. With a sigh, he got up and prepared for the day.

**-Breakfast in the Great Hall-**

Draco always chose a seat that faced the Gryffindor table, so that he could sneer at Potter when he looked up and make sure he wasn't up to something. He was beginning to regret that habit, though, as he stared at the beautiful hands of one Harry Potter as they twirled a fork in the air. The delicate fingers moved deftly around the stem of the utensil, and Draco wondered, for the umpteenth time this week, whether he was going insane.

After that enlightening Potions class a few days ago, Draco had been denying that he was even remotely interested in Potter's hands. _It was just the fumes from the potions_, he told himself,_ making me hallucinate._

Unfortunately, that excuse—which was lame even to him—lost all accuracy when Draco almost cut off Crabbe's hand in D.A.D.A class because he blocked his view of Potter. He was distracted by the way that Potter held his wand; confidently wrapped around the stick of wood, holding it firmly, yet lovingly. Draco had been wishing that those hands would hold _his _wand (and not the one made of wood) that way, too, when Crabbe suddenly waved his huge, meaty hand in front of his face. Startled, and more than a little unhappy that his ogling was interrupted, Draco had shot the first hex he could think of at the atrocious appendage.

_Crabbe's hands are hideous; all fat and blunt. No where near as nice as Potter's...damnit, stop thinking about people's hands!_ That was another problem: the details he had noticed about Potter's hands, had him noticing _everyone's_ hands, now. Or rather, had him comparing everyone's hands to Potter's. Maybe those potion fumes _were_ affecting him after all…

Draco's eyes snapped back to the Gryffindor's hands as they once again moved through the air. Potter was the type to gesture with his hands while he talked, and the wild movements had caught Draco's attention numerous times throughout the day. _If you keep staring like an idiot, someone's going to notice!_

Just as Draco had finally gathered the willpower to tear his gaze from the Golden Boy, those mesmerizing hands lifted to run through a mop of messy black hair. Draco had often heard girls call Potter's hair sexy. "It looks like he just got thoroughly shagged," they would giggle. Watching fingers plow through the raven colored locks, Draco admitted—albeit reluctantly—that the "Just Shagged" look was nice. He suddenly wanted to run his own hands through Potter's hair. What would it feel like? Would it be soft or coarse? With the way that it stood up at all angles, Draco figured that it had to be stiff in order to defy gravity. But the free and easy movement of the dark strands portrayed a softer look, and contradicted that theory.

Draco's fingers twitched violently—nearly dropping his fork—with the urge to touch Potter's mysterious hair. _Damn my curiousity!_

* * *

><p>Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!<em><br>_


	3. There's Something in Your Hair

**Disclaimer:** no copyright infringement intended

**Warning:** slash, male/male sex

**A/N:** I'm actually really pleased with how this chapter came out. It's all thanks to **PockyPand4** for giving me the ideas I needed to get motivated! Thanks hun, you're a lifesaver!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: "There's Something in Your Hair"<strong>

_Great. Now I'm obsessed with his hair, too!_ Draco scowled at his cereal. All day, he had been trying in vain to ignore Potter's raven locks, but the damn Gryffindor had a nasty habit of running his perfect hands through his hair, making it messier(and therefore sexier) than before.

_How does he get it so shiny, when it looks like he doesn't even brush it? I spend hours working on my hair every day!_ The spoon in Draco's hand began to bend ominously in his tight grip. _Clam down, Draco. You are not getting jealous over Potter's rat's nest of hair._

"Are you alright, Drakey-poo?" came a sickly sweet voice from his right. "You look a little flustered."

"Flustered? Pansy, I am not flustered," Draco deadpanned. "And don't call me that."

"Aww, but Drakey-wakey, don't you like the pet names I give you?" Pansy's eyes had taken on a mischievous glint. _I swear, I am going to hex her seven ways to Sunday!_ Thankfully, Blaise spoke up before Draco could pull out his wand.

"I bet he's just nervous about the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game this afternoon."

Draco rolled his eyes at his friend's ignorance. "It's not a _game_, Blaise, just practice. And I wouldn't be nervous over _practice._"

"Whatever," Blaise waved Draco's correction aside. He had never been very interested in Quidditch, preferring the company of girls over watching a sport.

"But why are you practicing with the Gryffindor team? I thought each team practiced separately," Pansy looked thoroughly confused.

"Normally, yes," Draco sighed in annoyance. "But the stupid Gryffindorks accidentally booked the pitch on the same day as Slytherin. Of course, McGonagall favored the Gryffindors and said that it was _our_ fault. So we took the problem to Dumbledore, which was a mistake, because that damn peace-keeping idiot decided that both teams should just practice together!"

"That's stupid. Now the Gryffindor team can steal moves from the Slytherins!" Blaise sounded quite angry for someone who never took an interest in the game before.

"Yeah, but it means I can steal moves from Potter, too," too late, Draco realized his mistake," I mean—" Blaise cut him off with an amused smirk.

"So you admit that Potter knows moves that you don't, then?" Draco huffed.

"Yeah, but I have moves that he doesn't know about, too!"

"Not for long. If you can steal techniques from him, he can steal techniques from you, too."

"Shut up, Blaise. You're not helping me here," Draco growled. "Besides, Saint Potter would never steal another player's moves; he's too _good_ for that," Draco sneered. _Wouldn't you love to know just how far that innocence extends?_

Draco conveniently ignored that little comment from his subconscious.

**-On the Quidditch Pitch-**

The afternoon sun shone down on the pitch, causing glares to sparkle off of the shiny handles of polished broomsticks. The air was heavy with humidity and heat, adding to the tense atmosphere between the two teams that stood opposite each other on the pitch.

"Alright, Flint, no tricks. It's just practice, so play fair for once, okay?" Oliver Wood said as he engaged in a staring contest with Marcus Flint.

"Sure," Marcus Flint sneered before turning to face his team.

"You heard him, boys. Play nicely, alright?" he said in an innocent voice. The Slytherin Quidditch team snickered before responding with a sickly sweet, "Of course, Captain. We wouldn't _dream_ of playing any other way!"

The Gryffindor Quidditch team simply glared and mounted their brooms. Both teams took off into the air simultaneously, each player taking his or her spot on the field. The game—sorry, _practice_—had begun.

Sweat trickled down the back of Draco's neck as the sun beat down relentlessly. _Merlin, it's hot! Geez, where is that damn snitch? Hurry up and appear, already! I wanna go take a cold shower and lay down!_ Just then, Potter shot across the field, his body flat against the broom to gain speed. _Shit!_

Draco took off after Potter, angling his broom toward the place where he had just spotted the snitch. Soon they were neck and neck, racing alongside each other as the snitch hurtled through the air. Potter pushed ahead, giving Draco a perfect view of his hair blowing in the wind. Draco had been doing rather well, so far, with ignoring Potter. He did not even notice the grip potter had on his broom while in flight. Ok, so maybe he had noticed it, but only once or twice! And of course he had forgotten all about Potter's messy black hair, too, until the Boy Wonder just _had_ to fly ahead of him.

It looked nice, all wind blown and shiny in the sun. That thick raven-colored hair had Draco's fingers just itching to reach out and touch it. His hands, apparently, had a mind of their own and decided to do just that. _Oh, shit!_

Draco reached out and grabbed onto Potter's Quidditch robes as his hands let go of the broom and he began to fall. Unfortunately, this took Potter off guard and he lost his balance, falling off of his broom as well. The two tumbled to the ground, screaming their heads off (something that they would deny ever doing).

"Oompf!" The wind was knocked out of Draco as he landed on his back. Seconds later, he had an armful of Golden Boy as Potter landed on top of him. Draco gasped for breath and tried to calm his racing heart. _Oh Merlin, Potter is on top of me! Wait, why does that make me excited?_

Potter shifted, accidentally shoving his hair into Draco's face. _His hair smells nice. _Discreetly, Draco took another whiff of Potter's hair. _Kind of woodsy with a hint of mint._ Before he could get another sniff, Potter sat up and scowled down at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy? You knocked me off of my broom!"

"So?" Draco asked impassively. He was not about to admit that it was an accident due to his clumsiness. _Really, what the hell was I thinking? I let go of my broom to try and touch Potter's hair! I could have died, all because of Potter's hair!_ Draco was disturbed to realize that all of his thoughts were ending with "Potter's hair." _I need to get away from here._

Potter had been glaring at him and opening and closing his mouth, as if he couldn't quite find the right words to describe how pissed off he was at Draco.

"Would you kindly get off of me?" The Gryffindor had been straddling his waist the entire time, and Draco was ashamed to admit that it was affecting his body in ways that he didn't want said Gryffindor to know about.

Potter growled (Draco tried _not_ to shiver at the sexy noise) and looked like he would say something, but then he noticed that both of their teams had landed and were coming over to see what was going on. He quickly stood up and stepped away from Draco, picking up his broom and inspecting it for any damage. Draco stood and dusted himself off before doing the same.

"What happened up there, boys?" Oliver questioned when he reached the two.

"I dunno. Malfoy just suddenly grabbed onto me and I lost my balance," Potter said while sending another glare Draco's direction.

Oliver turned to Draco, "Is this true, Malfoy? What did you do?"

Draco's eyes got wide and he looked innocently at the Quidditch Captain, "I don't know. It's all a blur…" he said imploringly. Marcus smirked and some of the Slytherins snickered at his antics.

Oliver looked like he might AK Draco at any moment, so Flint stepped forward to defend his seeker.

"Come now, Wood. I doubt Draco did it on purpose. After all, he fell too, and you were the one who said no tricks, remember?" Oliver glared daggers at Flint, who simply smiled innocently in return. Draco shifted uncomfortably and tried not to notice Harry's windswept hair. _It has dirt in it…No! Stop looking at Potter's hair!_

"Hey, Oliver, it's fine," Harry sighed. "Let's just stop, it's getting late." At Harry's words, everyone looked into the sky to see that the sun was, indeed, beginning to set. Silently, both teams picked up their brooms and packed away the Quidditch balls, before heading toward the showers.

**-In the Locker Rooms-**

"See you next practice, Draco," the last Slytherin team member called as he left the locker room. Draco sighed and finished buttoning up his shirt. He was always the last to leave the showers because he spent so much time on his appearance. _There is absolutely nothing wrong with putting effort into how I look. As a Malfoy, it is important that I look immaculate at all times._ Draco headed toward the sinks and looked in one of the mirrors. As he began to style his hair, his mind turned to thoughts of Harry. _I mean, look at him. The guy probably doesn't even try to keep up a decent appearance. Especially his sexy—I mean messy hair._

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a locker banging shut. _I thought I was the only one left? All of the Gryffindors had left before the Slytherins. _He turned to see none other than The-Prat-Who-Lived walking away from the lockers that lined the far wall. He seemed lost in thought as he walked up to the sink next to Draco and began to brush his teeth.

Draco stared. _Does he not realize who he's standing next to?_ Apparently not, because after Harry put away his toothbrush, he looked up and visibly jumped when he found Draco standing there staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked, looking uncomfortable under Draco's scrutiny. Not having heard the question, Draco continued to stare, his eyes traveling, almost by habit, towards the pile of black hair on Harry's head.

"You've got something in your hair," Draco suddenly blurted out. He reached forward and shoved his hand into Harry's hair before the other boy could react to his statement. Pushing back the bangs, he watched his hand slide through the raven locks, to the back of Harry's head. He fingered the curls at the nape of Harry's neck, before reluctantly pulling his hand away.

Draco shoved both of his hands into his pockets to avoid tangling his hands back into Harry's marvelous hair.

"I got it out," he murmured dazedly. Before the Gryffindor could ask any questions, he turned around, grabbed his bag full of Quidditch robes, and left the locker room.

Meanwhile, poor Harry was left to stare after the blonde Slytherin, muttering a confused and bewildered, "What the fuck?"

**O.o**

Draco leaned against the door to the Quidditch locker room and mentally patted himself on the back for keeping his composure during his exit. _Ohmigod I touched his hair! It was so soft, just like I expected it to be…Merlin I sound like a schoolgirl squealing over a crush. Which doesn't make sense because I don't have a crush on Harry. Definitely not. _

Satisfied with his self-persuasion against the fact that he had a crush on Harry, Draco sauntered off towards the Great Hall for dinner. _Wait, since when did Potter become "Harry"?_

* * *

><p>Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Oh, and just so you know, there was nothing in Harry's hair; Draco just needed an excuse to touch it ;)<em><br>_


	4. Why Aren't You Wearing Your Glasses?

**Disclaimer:** no copyright infringement intended

**Warnings:** slash, male/male sex, fluff galore

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long! I got distracted…Anyway, please enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>"Why aren't you wearing your glasses?"<br>**

Draco couldn't help the large, goofy smile that insisted on taking over the majority of his face. He could still feel the soft, silken texture of Harry's hair on his fingers.

What's that, you say? Draco used the Boy Wonder's first name? Pssh. You must have heard wrong. Draco Malfoy would never refer to Harry Potter as anything other than Potter. Well, Pothead, too. And Scarhead, and The Gryffindor Golden Boy, and The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Draco-Wank—wait, not that!

This was not about Draco's intense wank sessions where the star of his show was none other than that gorgeous piece of arse currently sitting at the Gryffindor table. Speaking of which, Harry—_Potter_ looked quite worried and more than a little confused. And by the constant glances sent his way, Draco supposed that he had been a bit too suspicious during his recent meeting with said Gryffindor. He had been high on the exhilarating feeling of finally getting his hands on that decadent hair that he had not thought of the consequences. Draco winced as he remembered the event. _"There's something in your hair." What kind of idiotic excuse was that? Come on, Draco, a Malfoy can do better than that._

But apparently Harry's hair could render even the most creative Malfoys unable to use their higher thinking levels. Draco could definitely understand that. Just remembering the silken texture of it, how it brushed smoothly past his fingers, made him shiver in delight. Draco cast another surreptitious glance at the Gryffindor table to secretively ogle that sexy raven hair.

And then he wondered, suddenly, about the _other_ places that Harry might have hair. Such as his chest; although Draco somehow doubted that the shorter boy had any chest hair. But perhaps Harry would have a nice, tantalizing trail of black curls running from his navel down to—_No. Bad thoughts, Draco. Do not go there._ He was a Malfoy, after all. It would not do to get a hard-on in the middle of dinner whilst fantasizing about the Boy-Who-Lived's happy trail.

As he left the Great Hall and headed toward the Slytherin Dungeons, Draco realized that he had been reminding himself of the fact that he was a "Malfoy with dignity" quite a bit, lately.

* * *

><p>As he walked down the corridor to his next class, Draco reflected on the past few days. It had been horrible; all he seemed to be able to do was think about Harry Potter. Harry Potter in all his naked glory, rivulets of water running down his skin; Harry Potter and his bright green eyes; Harry Potter and his sex hair; Harry Potter and his—needless to say, Draco had had better days. And better nights, too. His imagination seemed to have a never-ending supply of Harry Potter Wank Fantasies. Merlin, if this kept up, he was going to get Carpel Tunnel!<p>

Oh, but they were such nice fantasies…

Draco was suddenly brought back to the real world as he ran into a wall. A warm, slightly muscular wall. A wall that was a bit shorter than him and accompanied by two other walls; one of them was yelling at him in a way that, with its bright fire-colored hair, reminded Draco of an exploding firecracker.

"Watch where you're going, Malfoy!" Ron Weasley roared at him, obviously in an attempt to imitate his house's mascot. _Really, what idiot decided that Gryffindors should be represented by a lion? It should be something more talkative and annoying; like a parrot._

"It's alright, Ron. It was just an accident." Draco became aware that he was holding the "wall's" waist. Apparently he had reached out to catch the person before he fell. Recognizing the voice of Harry bloody Potter, Draco quickly let go and told himself that his flush was from anger and disgust. _Can you even blush when you're disgusted?_ Draco firmly stuck to his belief that you could, and that it didn't really matter anyway. Besides, he was not _blushing._

"Yes, weasel, it was just an accident. Perhaps you should take the Savior's example and actually think before you act," he sneered. Wait, that sounded more like a complement to Harry than an insult to Weasley. Draco fervently hoped that the Golden Boy lived up to his reputation of being an oblivious Gryffindor and didn't notice.

"Malfoy….was that a _complement_?" Shit. Draco had forgotten the presence of the Ever-Knowing Hermione Granger. Even if Harry hadn't noticed it, Granger surely would, and of course she would have no problem pointing it out for all to see.

"What? And here I thought you were supposed to be the brains of the Golden Trio. Obviously I did not complement Weasley by insinuating that Har—Potter was smarter than him." _God, please don't catch that slip-up!_ The last thing Draco needed was for Harry—_Potter_ to know that he had complemented him _and _almost called him by his first name. _What the hell happened to being a dignified Malfoy!_

Granger narrowed her eyes, but thankfully didn't call him out on his strange behavior. Weasley and Har—Potter, for God's sake!—seemed entirely oblivious to the staring contest that had broken out between him and Granger.

Finally, Granger looked away, and Draco turned a triumphant smirk toward the other two parts of the Golden Trio. Unfortunately, that forced him to lock eyes with Harry—Pott, oh never mind—and he found himself glued to the boy's sparkling emerald depths. _Something's different. I've never noticed his eyes before, and if that's what they look like, how could I not? _Unconsciously, Draco took a small step forward, intent on deciphering what was missing.

_Crack!_

Draco looked down to find that he had stepped on Harry's glasses. He bent to pick up the spectacles and was abruptly hit with the realization that this was what was missing. The glasses must have been knocked off when he ran into Draco, and now the hideous monstrosities could no longer hide Harry's beautiful eyes. _No, no,no, Harry's eyes are not beautiful!_

He looked up at the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Draco-Flustered and held out the broken glasses. "Uh, sorry." Draco grimaced; he never apologized! _Harry's always been the exception, though._ Draco turned his attention back to the Gryffindors in front of him in favor of ignoring that little voice in his head.

He barely concealed another grimace as he looked into their shocked and incredulous faces._ It's a good thing that I told Pansy and Blaise to go to the next class without me; they would've died if they saw me acting like this. Much like these three will, from the looks of it._

"Well, it looks like you've lucked out, Pothead. At least without these ugly glasses, you're appearance might improve, if only a little," he smirked evilly, before walking up to Harry and shoving the broken spectacles into his limp hand. Then, because lets face it, he just couldn't help himself when it came to Harry, he whispered into the boy's ear as he passed by.

"But, you really shouldn't have been hiding those pretty eyes."

Draco sauntered away, pleased that he had pulled one over the Weasel and Granger. And it was only fair, really, that Harry feels at least an ounce as flustered as he did. He completely missed Harry's blush as he left.

**-The Next Day-**

A commotion interrupted the peaceful conversation at breakfast. Everyone turned to the source, which was the Gryffindor table, big surprise there. What _was_ a surprise, though, was what the commotion was about.

Draco craned his neck in an attempt to see what the precious little Gryffindorks had gotten all flustered about so early in the morning.

"Maybe they were told that Quidditch was illegal now," Blaise sneered. He too was trying to see what was happening and was doing a good job of invading Draco's personal space as he leaned further over to get a better look.

"Probably something equally as stupid," Draco muttered, while attempting to subtly shove Blaise away. He could get rather touchy-feely for a Slytherin, and often didn't notice how close he was to others. Or how much it annoyed them.

"Who cares? Let the idiots be idiots, and just be grateful that you're not one of them," Pansy muttered, apparently addressing her food. She hadn't looked up from the plate once, and didn't seem to be doing so in the near future. Once upon a time, Draco might have felt the same indifference, but now, as he strained to get a peak of the chaos that was the Gryffindor table, he could only feel anxiety.

It was just a small niggling in that back of his mind, true, but there all the same. And what, pray tell, had gotten the Malfoy heir so nervous? _Well, it should be obvious by now. No one but Harry could get me to feel emotions other than anger, disgust, and pride._ It really should have worried Draco how much of an affect the Gryffindor was having on him, but he just couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Right now, all he could think of was if Harry was alright. Only the Chosen One could get his housemates to make so much commotion, and Draco was growing more and more worried that it was not a good kind of attention.

"Wow, mate!" Weasley's overly large mouth broadcasted clearly throughout the hall, "It looks great! Why didn't you do this before?"

_Looks great? What looks great? If Harry's changed his appearance into something that makes him look even better, then I must see this!_ Draco rose to his feet, vaguely noticing that Blaise and a few other students had done the same. He growled when his view was still blocked by the swarming Gryffindors. He was just about to walk over there and have a look for himself, when Harry stood up and began to make his way out of the crowd.

That's when Draco saw what the hell had looked so great that it caused everyone in the Great Hall to want a peek. Harry wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes shone in the light and sparkled with emotion, and they were now on display for everyone to see.

Draco growled again, but not from annoyance this time. It was a more possessive sound, one that echoed exactly how he felt. He wasn't sure why it angered him so much, but the thought of everyone seeing Harry's gorgeous eyes, that seemed to express even the most mundane thought, made him have to force his magic to remain controlled.

"Draco? Are you alright?" Blaise was touching his arm and looking at him with concern, but Draco simply shrugged off the gesture. He wanted to find out just what Harry was playing at. Without conscious command, his legs carried him away from the Slytherin table and out the doors of the Great Hall. He ignored his friend's calls; right now, he had questions. And he wanted answers.

Harry was walking down the corridor in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. He was already a good distance away, so Draco had to jog to catch up to him.

"Potter!" Harry glanced over his shoulder and then did a double take. Draco could tell that he was trying to mask his surprise.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Draco didn't miss the fact that the words seemed to have lost their usual venom, though Harry was obviously trying to look annoyed.

It took a moment for Draco to gather his thoughts, what with him being distracted by Harry's eyes and the prospect that the wrong words could give away his true feelings. Harry was looking at him with those intense eyes, and Draco found it exhilarating to have his full attention.

"Why aren't you wearing your glasses?" he blurted out. _There goes my plan to avoid the words that would give away my true thoughts._ Harry gave him a funny look.

"Um, you broke them yesterday, remember?"

Draco refrained from beating his head against the wall and attempted to cover up his first mistake with an insult, "What, the mudblood couldn't fix them this time?" That was not the best choice, and Draco knew it the moment the words were out of his mouth. Harry's eyes sparked with rage and his hands clenched into fists.

"Don't call her that, Malfoy! Why don't you just fuck off and go bother someone else?" Harry turned on his heel and began to stomp angrily in the direction of his common room.

"Potter, wait!" Draco ran to catch up to the irate Gryffindor while mentally berating himself; the last thing he wanted was to piss off Harry. _But wasn't that you're goal in life less two months ago?_ As he spun Harry around and looked into those mesmerizing orbs, Draco could admit that it was no longer his goal. In fact, his goal seemed to have become the exact opposite.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Draco took a deep breath and focused on the part of his brain that wanted to avoid making Harry mad. It was easier to form his thoughts with that goal, rather than the other half of his brain that was telling him that this was a huge risk and Harry might laugh at him. _But he wouldn't do that. Harry isn't the type to laugh at someone who is being honest about how they feel._

"I just—I think you look good without the glasses," it came out in a rush, and Draco wondered if Harry even understood what he'd said. To his immense surprise, Harry actually blushed; it was a soft red color that bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. He ducked his head, hiding behind his fringe as he murmured something. Draco had to lean forward a bit in order to catch the words.

"You said something like that yesterday, and I thought that I could try contacts."

He had said something like that, hadn't he? When he'd had a lapse of sense and was acting Gryffindorish. To his extreme horror, Draco found himself feeling light and fluffy and tingly at the thought that Harry had changed his appearance because of what he'd said. _Oh Merlin, now I'm really losing my sanity, if I'm acting like a Hufflepuff!_

Harry bit his lip and looked to the side, making Draco want to capture that full bottom lip and take over the task for him. He searched his suddenly hazy brain for something to distract him.

"Best be careful, Potter. Your fan club might just jump you if you're not paying attention." These were not the best words to use as a distraction, Draco realized, as it was accompanied by images of Harry tied up in various positions and being thoroughly ravished. Harry's face transformed into a devious smirk, and Draco became worried that his thoughts had shown on his face.

"Oh? Does that fan club include Slytherins, by any chance?" Apparently he was more expressive than he thought. _Wait, did Harry just flirt with me?_

"Of course not. A good little Gryffindor like you would be in serious trouble if that were true."

"Hmmmm," Harry hummed and raised an eyebrow. "Dear me, we can't have that." Harry's smirk became sly and he stepped forward until he was only a few inches from the blond. "If I were caught, I would surely be bound and forced to allow the person to have his Wicked Slytherin Way with me." Draco shifted and tried to stop the mental images, as well as the blood rushing south.

Harry leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "I guess it's a good thing that there aren't any Slytherins in my fan club, then." Draco decided that Harry was also capable of leaving a Malfoy blind with lust. He shivered and watched with interest as Harry walked away with his firm, round arse swaying enticingly.

* * *

><p>Okay, only one more chapter left! And I promise to post it faster than this one! Thanks for all the reviews! ;)<p> 


	5. I Love Everything About You

**Disclaimer:** no copyright infringement intended

**Warnings:** slash, male/male sex, fluff galore

**A/N:** Alrighty, it's time for the chapter that makes this story rated M, and the one you've all been waiting for!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: I Love Everything About You<strong>

Draco growled in frustration as he watched as Harry was dragged away by his two best friends. He and Harry had been dancing around each other for two weeks, exchanging flirty words and heated gazes. Draco didn't know that he was capable of creating so many thinly veiled innuendos until now. Their subtle touches had become bolder as the days wore on; brushing fingers and knocking elbows as they passed each other had turned into full blown groping. Draco had been about to finally claim those luscious pink lips, when Granger and Weasel had come around the corner and stupidly assumed that he and Harry's close proximity meant they were fighting.

_Damn oblivious Gryffindors. Can't they tell that I was in the process of shoving Harry against the wall and having my wicked Slytherin way with him?_ Draco supposed that they would have still pulled Harry away if they knew that, though. In fact, the entire school seemed to be completely ignorant to the blatant flirting happening between the Slytherin Ice Prince and the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Everyone was under the impression that their fighting had simply increased and that it was their duty to stop them before they got expelled.

With an exasperated sigh, Draco began walking to his last class of the day: Potions with Gryffindor. It was funny that two weeks ago he had been dreading this class, when now he was practically running to it (he was, of course, most certainly _not_ running; he had to maintain at least a little Malfoy dignity).

As Draco stepped into the Potions classroom, his eyes immediately sought out Harry. He was pleased to find that the raven-haired boy had stopped his conversation with the Weasel in favor of staring at him the moment he walked in. A playful smirk formed on his face, and he resumed his strut to his seat, making sure to sway his hips in a way that made his arse look mouthwatering.

"Hey, mate, you okay?" Draco snickered as the Weasel waved a hand in front of Harry, trying to pull him out of his dreamy staring. Harry shook his head and looked away, but not fast enough to hide his blush from Draco. He smirked. _Mission accomplished._

"Um. Yeah. Fine," Harry said hoarsely. Just then, Professor Snape stalked into the room. Harry thought he had never been more grateful to see the snarky git.

"Alright, brats, since the last class proved that you are all incapable of choosing your own partners, I will be pairing you up today." He smirked as the students groaned collectively, and then proceeded to rattle off the pairings. Draco and Harry both listened for their names, secretly hoping that Snape would be feeling particularly sadistic today and put them together. They were not disappointed.

"And," Snape's mouth twisted into a cruel smile, "Potter with Malfoy," he concluded with an air of satisfaction. Harry all but leapt from his seat and gathered his stuff, making it over to Draco's table in record time. Draco, for his part, shoved a squawking Pansy out of her seat to make way for Harry. This was a mistake though, as Harry, in his haste, tripped over Pansy and face-planted right into Draco's chest. Draco, who was now assaulted by Harry's woodsy smell and warm, quidditch-toned body, decided that it was not a mistake after all, but quite possibly the smartest thing he'd ever done.

"Sorry," Harry breathed into Draco's neck. Draco nodded dumbly, unable to form any words as Harry pressed closer and touched his lips to the same spot on his neck.

"Gods, Harry," Draco gasped and couldn't resist as he felt Harry shiver pleasantly; he just had to taste him! Neither boy noticed the shocked gasps that filled the room as their lips connected. It was tentative at first, but as they began to move their lips, it became more passionate. Draco opened his mouth and licked at Harry's bottom lip, biting it and sucking it into his mouth. Harry moaned and parted his lips, letting Draco have the first taste.

_Merlin on a stick!_ It was better than he'd imagined. Harry tasted like dark chocolate; bitter, but with an underlying sweet and creamy flavor. Harry's tongue began to fight his for dominance, and Draco growled possessively. Harry groaned at the sound, and squeezed the blond's arse in appreciation. _And when had those delicate appendages gotten into my back pockets?_ Draco couldn't bring himself to separate their lips enough to ask.

As Draco tangled his fingers into Harry's hair, a very annoying screaming reached his ears. Harry began to pull away, presumably to uncover the source of the horrid noise, but Draco was having none of that. He tightened his hold on the ebony locks and pushed the Gryffindor back against the table. Unfortunately, this had the opposite effect that he wanted, when Harry separated their mouths as he was jolted.

They looked at each other, both panting and aroused, before Harry turned away to look at the shaking form of Pansy Parkinson, who was still screaming in fury. Draco observed his surroundings, seeming to have forgotten that there were other people present. The sight before him was rather amusing.

Most of the students looked shocked, some looked a bit green, and some looked dreamy and much too interested to be healthy. Weasley was sputtering and gesturing wildly, Granger had a knowing smile on her face, and Snape was being violently sick in one of the cauldrons. Draco smirked and looked back at Harry, realizing that his hands were still in his hair and Harry's were still in his back pockets. His eyes dilated with lust as he took in the Gryffindor's swollen, red lips and cloudy green orbs. Much to Draco's annoyance—and everyone else's relief—Snape recovered and thwarted any attempt to continue the snogging session.

"Detention!" he bellowed, pointing a shaking finger at each of them. "Class dismissed!" Everyone watched as Professor Snape stormed out of the room. Draco took a moment to feel sorry for his professor, before returning his attention to the sexy black-haired seeker that was sandwiched between him and the table.

"Well, Potter," he said teasingly, "it looks like we'll be busy tonight. I'll have to cancel my plans." He added a long-suffering sigh for good measure.

Harry's smirk was worthy of a Slytherin. "Oh, no. Detention alone with Malfoy in Snape's classroom; I'll be _so_ bored." Draco growled and lunged forward to capture those pouty lips. The rest of the students wisely hauled arse and got out of the classroom before the clothes started flying.

* * *

><p>"You," Snape pointed at Draco, "sit in that corner of the room, and you," Snape swung his arm and pointed at Harry, "sit in the opposite corner over there." Harry and Draco glanced at each other, before obediently following Snape's orders. They had both arrived at the Potion Master's classroom promptly at eight, and were immediately directed to clean cauldrons the muggle way by a rather ill-looking Severus Snape. Apparently, he still had the image of their passionate snogging from earlier burned into his mind, and was standing a considerable distance from them.<p>

Satisfied that the two of them were as far apart as possible, the professor moved to sit at his desk and began his favorite part of teaching: grading papers. Oh, how he loved to laugh at the idiotic things those brats put in their essays…

Draco sent dubious glances at his professor as the Potions Master snickered to himself._ Poor Snape, I think Harry and I sent him over the edge today. Harry and I…us…that sounds nice…_Draco zoned out as he was once more filled with thoughts of Harry. His trousers were suddenly too tight as he remembered the kiss from earlier. _Damn. Now that I know what he tastes like, I want more…_

The only problem was that Snape was still here. Draco huffed in annoyance; how could he get the old dungeon bat to leave his cave, so that he could shag Harry senseless? He needed a plan. He needed to channel his inner Slytherin; to bring the cunning, Malfoy-Gets-What-Malfoy-Wants side of him to light. He needed—Professor McGonagall to conveniently come running in and ask Snape for his assistance with some random emergency.

"Professor Snape, you're assistance is needed at once! Mr. Longbottom has been hit with a curse that turned him into a half-goat, half-human hybrid and he is currently being chased around by Aberforth! You must help me catch him before he is molested by our resident goat-lover!" Professor McGonagall, who had conveniently come running in, grabbed Snape's arm and proceeded to drag him out of the classroom.

Draco blinked. Well, that was unexpected, but he'd take what he could get. Shaking himself free of the shock of McGonagall's sudden appearance, he began to stalk toward his prey.

Sauntering up behind Harry, Draco pressed himself to the Gryffindor's back, molding their bodies together. He bent down and nipped Harry's earlobe.

"Well, Potter, it looks like we're finally alone," Draco whispered into the other boy's ear, relishing in the shiver it caused. He slid his hands down Harry's back and around his waist, fingering the hem of his shirt.

"My-my name," Harry gasped, "call me Harry." Draco kissed the back of his neck.

"Then call me Draco," he murmured as he ran his hand up Harry's chest and pinched one of his nipples through his shirt.

"Draco," Harry moaned, making said boy hiss in pleasure. _Merlin, I had no idea that my name could sound that sensual!_ Draco groaned and turned Harry around, claiming those delectable lips in a fierce kiss. Harry moaned in the back of his throat and parted his lips, eagerly letting Draco in. The blonde wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close, rubbing their erections together in the process.

Both boys gasped at the sensation and bucked forward, desperate for more of that glorious friction. _Shit, if this keeps up, I'm going to cum in my pants!_ Harry was making the sexiest noises and Draco was quickly losing control.

Suddenly, Harry broke the kiss and smirked at Draco, before slithering down his body to kneel in front of him. He kept eye contact with the blonde as he unbuttoned his trousers and then took the zipper between his teeth. Draco watched with rapt attention as the Savior of the Wizarding World slowly unzipped his trousers, the hot breath from his mouth ghosting over the thin layer of his underwear and making his sensitive cock twitch.

Without breaking eye-contact, Harry pulled down Draco's trousers and left them to pool at his feet. Then, he looked down at the considerable bulge in the blonde's pants and felt his own groin throb with need. He leaned forward and mouthed Draco's erection over his underwear, before glancing back up and pulling down the pants that were blocking him from his prize.

_Oh, gods! Is he about to do what I think he's about to do?_ Draco stared as Harry's eyes darkened with lust. He was looking at the Slytherin's cock, jutting out proudly from a patch of light blonde hair that almost blended in with his skin. Then, without any further warning, the Gryffindor lunged forward and took Draco's entire length into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" Draco practically screamed. He'd had a few sexual escapades before this, but damn, trust Harry to show off his Gryffindor enthusiasm in _everything_! He reached down and shoved his hands, none too gently, into that soft raven hair, pulling Harry's head forward while he thrust into his hot, wet cavern. The Gryffindor didn't even try to stop him from pushing his cock into the back of his throat, nor did he gag. Draco felt a jolt of jealousy run through his veins as he realized that this was obviously not the first time that Harry had done this. Then Harry hollowed out his cheeks and began to bob his head, and Draco lost all ability to think.

Draco knew that he was making all kinds of embarrassing noises, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Besides, the sexy sounds seemed to be spurring harry on. He deep-throated Draco and hummed around his cock, making the blonde's eyes roll into the back of his head in pleasure. Unfortunately, as wonderful as it was, Draco didn't want to cum just yet. With great reluctance, he yanked on Harry's hair and pulled his head away, bringing it back up to eye-level and claiming those naughty lips.

"Fuck, Draco," Harry gasped between kisses, "wanted you for so long."

Draco's mind was reeling; Harry wanted him! _Well, obviously, if the current situation is anything to go by._ But to hear him actually say it, to know that Draco wasn't the only one being driven crazy, was wondrous. Not to mention it was doing spectacular things to his libido.

"Me too," he whispered into Harry's ear, before trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. Harry made an impatient sound as Draco kissed his chin, avoiding the destination that he knew Harry wanted him to reach. With a deep chuckle, Draco finally relented and fastened their lips together.

Swiftly, Draco worked on Harry's trousers, pulling them down like his own. He shuffled Harry backwards, not once breaking the kiss, until the shorter boy hit Snape's desk. Draco had a fantasy—one of many—about bending Harry over Snape's desk and shagging him within an inch of his life. He planned to make that come true tonight.

"Turn around," Draco panted, "and bend over." Harry immediately complied, draping his torso over the wooden desk and grabbing the edge, not caring that he knocked numerous papers and quills onto the ground.

Draco slid his hands down Harry's back, and to his firm arse. He massaged the round globes, enjoying Harry's appreciative moans, before sliding a finger down the crack between the cheeks. Harry jerked and gasped as Draco's finger rubbed over his sensitive hole. With a muttered spell, Draco slid a lubricated finger into the tight heat. _Good thing I learned to do this spell wandless; it's just as useful as the hair drying and cleaning spells I mastered at age eight. A Malfoy's appearance is just as important as their skills in bed, after all. _

Harry tensed up as Draco added another finger to the mix. To calm him, and make sure that he was still feeling pleasurable, Draco reached around and began to tease the raven-haired boy's erect cock. He ran feather-light touches down the hot shaft and circled the head. When he dipped his thumb into the slit at the top, Harry bucked forward, succeeding in shoving Draco's fingers further up his hole and rubbing that bundle of nerves inside. The result was beautiful; Harry thrashed and keened, pushing back onto the two digits that were now abusing his prostate.

"Oh, yeah, right there! Draco, that's so good! I need more, Draco!" Harry didn't even notice when Draco had slipped a third finger inside of him, and was wantonly fucking himself on the slender digits.

Draco was at his limit. The picture Harry made was so hot and desperate that he was about to explode just from watching. Deciding that Harry was prepared enough, he pulled the fingers out and slicked up his prick. Harry made a sorrowful sound at the loss of those wonderful digits, but it was cut off when they were replaced by something considerably larger and longer.

"Fuck!" Draco hissed as he was encased in hot, tight heat. He was desperately thinking anything unsexy to keep himself from cumming on the spot. _Ahh, I need to move! But, I don't want to go too fast for Harry._ Said person groaned and pushed back against Draco, effectively shutting up his inner disagreement and making the decision for him. He attempted to go slow, but when he hit Harry's prostate again, that decision was made for him as well.

"Ahhh, yes! Faster, please!" Draco was all too happy to comply. He set up a brutal pace, pounding into Harry and hitting that bundle of nerves dead on. The fact that their Professor could walk in at any moment simply heightened the excitement and forbidden feel of the act. Draco wasn't going to last long, and neither was Harry, judging by the sounds he was making.

"Touch yourself," Draco commanded, wanting to make sure that Harry came at the same time as him—no matter how sappy it was.

Moments later, Harry was screaming his release and clamping down on Draco's prick, pulling him over the edge as well. He collapsed onto Harry's back, running his hands up and down the Gryffindor's sides and reverently peppering his neck with kisses.

Slowly, they came down from their orgasmic highs and muttered cleaning charms over themselves. Draco pushed himself off of Harry and they began to get dressed. It was silent, both at a loss of what to say. Finally, they turned to look at each other and Harry spoke.

"That was brilliant," he smiled.

"Yeah," Draco smiled back. _Merlin, I just shagged the guy, and I'm getting shy _now_?_

For a moment, neither moved, then Harry stepped forward and touched his lips to Draco's in a chased kiss. Draco placed his hands on Harry's waist and deepened the kiss, pouring the feelings he had recently discovered into it. As they pulled back, Draco rested his forehead on Harry's, smiling softly at the Gryffindor's dazed expression.

"I love everything about you: your hands," Draco picked up Harry's hands and kissed each fingertip, then the palms, "your hair," he placed a kiss on Harry's head, "your eyes," he placed a kiss over each of Harry's eyelids, "and your lips," the last kiss was given to Harry's lips; sweet and languid.

Draco broke away and took a deep breath, before asking, "Will you be my boyfriend, Harry?"

Harry's smile was brilliant. "I'd like that very much, Draco."

_Fin_

* * *

><p><em>Okay, that's the end! Thanks again for everyone who read and reviewed! ;)<br>_


End file.
